At the Mouth of Hell: Season 1
by Grahamburger
Summary: Scott struggles with becoming a werewolf, Buffy struggles with her responsibilities as a Slayer and as a daughter.


**At the Mouth of Hell**

**Episode 1: Wolf Moon**

Scott McCall pushed the front door slowly open with his foot, both hands tightly gripping a baseball bat. Even as he crept out onto the house's front porch, he could hear the creaking sounds. They sounded like they were on the roof above him. "Who's there?" he called out. Nervous didn't begin to describe his current feeling.

And then the creaking changed into a clatter. Scott shouted and leapt back from the edge of the porch as a body fell – catching on a branch from the nearby tree and simply dangling. It was silhouetted by the full moon but he could just barely make out…

"Stiles!" he exclaimed, finally lowering the bat, "What the hell?"

"Answer your phone!" Stiles Stilinski retorted, his voice full of frustration, "And why do you have a bat?" As outraged as he was, he knew there was no hope of being taken seriously so long as he was hanging upside down from a tree.

"I'm glad it wasn't an axe murderer," Scott exhaled, "Why were you calling?"

"I think you need to prune this," Stiles said absently, "I mean, this branch is basically on the roof. That can't be good for it."

Scott was used to Stiles' easily distracted mind – it wasn't unusual to have to ask a question two or three times before Stiles would even pick up on it. They'd been best friends most of their lives at this point, it was just one quirk of that he'd learned to live with. "Why were you calling?"

"Oh!" Stiles exclaimed, waving his arms in his excitement, "My dad got a call tonight, right? Joggers found a body in the woods—" His wild gesticulations took their toll on the branch he hung from and it snapped. Midsentence, Stiles and branch fell into the bushes below.

Scott took advantage of the interruption. "It's Sunnydale, it seems like there's always a dead body in the woods," he pointed out, "Especially lately."

"Half a body!" Stiles interjected.

"Which half?" Scott asked before he could stop himself.

Stiles paused. "Oh, I don't know."

Scott rolled his eyes. "You're a little sick. Isn't this more up Jesse's alley than mine? Can't you call him?"

"Hanging out with Willow," Stiles replied sullenly. Scott had always been amazed at how Stiles could swap from crying to laughing, from exuberant to disappointed, in nothing flat. It wasn't that any of Stiles' feelings were false, it was just the speed at which Stiles' mind worked.

"I need to get a good night's sleep," Scott insisted, though he could feel his resistance failing, "Lacrosse tomorrow."

Stiles shook his head. "Warming the bench isn't exactly something you need to be well-rested for. I mean, it's not like you're gonna strain yourself."

"I'm making first line this year!"

"Scott, you're a severe asthmatic," Stiles pointed out gently, "I guess they'd probably let you play on the basketball team but at the same time, the basketball team can't get any worse. The lacrosse team is the only team at our school that wins. Ever."

Scott rolled his eyes, "That's exactly the kind of ego boost I needed. Let me get my inhaler and we'll go."

* * *

Stiles had been kind enough to let Scott change clothes when he went back into the house to grab his inhaler. After that, however, the pressure was on. He'd rushed Scott back outside and into his Jeep and they sped off for the Sunnydale Nature Preserve.

"So dad brought the entire department and dogs – and some state police – in to look for the half the body the joggers didn't find," Stiles explained as he shoved open the Jeep's driver-side door and slid to the leaf-strewn ground below.

"Which half did the joggers find?" Scott wondered, closing the passenger-side door behind him and checking the pockets of his zip-up hoodie to make sure his inhaler hadn't fallen out during the ride.

Stiles shrugs. "Didn't ask."

"And what are we going to do if we find it?" Scott pressed on.

"I didn't think that part through," Stiles admitted.

"Planned with the attention to detail that's made you so famous," Scott teased.

Stiles flicked on the flashlight he'd brought and the two trudged into the woods. The Nature Reserve was a fairly large wooded area on the edge of town, and in truth there was not much hope they'd find the body at all. The intrepid duo made their way deeper into the woods, largely silently – which was an impressive feat for Stiles – keeping their eyes peeled for anything.

It wasn't too long, however, before Scott started gasping for air. He fished his inhaler out of his pocket and shook it, trying to keep any eye on Stiles who was ascending a hill just ahead. Calmly, Scott breathed in a puff of medication from his inhaler. Scott had been using the inhaler for most of his life now but he was still just a little impressed with how quickly it began to take effect every time he used it. Just one more puff and he should be fine…

And that's when the light flickered across the top of the hill. Stiles dropped to the ground – someone else was here. A dog began barking. It was not any real surprise that they'd run into the cops, they were supposed to be swarming the woods. Scott scurried to the other side of a tree, peeking out to keep an eye on Stiles.

Stiles was not so fortunate. "Who's there?" a cop shouted, racing between the trees to get to Stiles' "hiding spot" on the ground.

"It's… nobody," Stiles stammered, "Nope. Nobody here."

"Is that…" The cop stopped, his flashlight shining directly at Stiles' head. "Sheriff Stilinski! I found your kid…"

A voice rang out from somewhere else in the woods. "My kid?" It was almost as if the Sheriff suddenly developed superhuman speed, he appeared next to the other cop so quickly. "Yeah, that is. That is my delinquent. Get up Stiles."

"Yes, sir," Stiles needed no second bidding and was back up on his feet in a flash. He had learned long ago that when his dad used his "Sheriff's voice" there was no arguing with him.

"What are you doing here?" Sheriff Stilinski demanded.

"Just, uh, strolling," Stiles managed, "In the woods. At night."

The Sheriff shined his flashlight straight at Stiles' face, like an interrogator. "And your partners-in-crime?"

"It's just me," Stiles shrugged, "Uhm, Willow had a study thing with everyone tonight. But all my homework's done!" Not a total lie. Well, no, the homework thing was. But what kind of teacher gave homework over winter break anyways?

The Sheriff had a knack for detecting lies – especially from his son. He shined his flashlight out into the trees. "Scott? Jesse? You can come out now!"

Scott pressed himself against the tree even more. He definitely did not want Stiles to get into any more trouble for having lied – and since Stiles was lying largely to protect Scott from his mother's wrath, it was a fair trade.

"Get into the car," Sheriff Stilinski ordered Stiles, "I'm driving you home."

"Uhm, I drove…" Stiles objected loudly before being led hastily out of Scott's hearing range.

The Sheriff shook his head. "I'll drop you off at the Jeep – then I'm following you home. And we need to talk about your habit of listening in on my calls."

"I don't listen to the boring ones," Stiles protested.

Scott was left with exactly one option – get back to the Jeep. It was a safe assumption that the Sheriff would deposit Stiles at the vehicle and then they'd drive back home. Scott just needed to be hidden inside the Jeep before they got there. He was sure they hadn't been in the woods for very long…

A howl sounded somewhere in the distance. _Because this situation wasn't freaking me out enough,_ Scott thought ruefully.

* * *

After about fifteen minutes of walking, Scott was fairly sure he was lost. There was no way they'd been in the woods for that long – had they? And even if they had, he was sure Stiles would have made it to the Jeep by now. It was a long walk home – though he was sure he could make it if he could find his way out of the woods. Even the idea of the lengthy walk made his chest tighten. Almost robotically, Scott whipped out his inhaler and took a puff.

Before he could even put it away, he was pulled out of his thoughts by what sounded like…. Like a stampede? He spun on his heel just in time to see it – a large group of deer thundering towards him. He tried to throw himself out of the way but just managed to find himself pushed up against the roots of a tree massive tree stump, the deer racing past much more closely than he was comfortable with. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to think about what would happen if one of the deer's hooves landed on him. And certainly not to think about what would happen if they landed on his head. It was a losing battle with his own brain, which couldn't seem to stop replacing the sound of the hooves meeting the ground with the sound of hooves meeting his own flesh.

But despite it all the deer passed and Scott was unscathed. Shakily, he rose to his feet and brushed himself off, gasping for air. Where had his inhaler gone? In the darkness he certainly couldn't find it – he pulled his iPhone out of his pocket and opened the flashlight app. The pale circle of light that appeared on the ground wasn't much but it would help. He turned, staring hard at the ground for the missing medication. There was no sign of it, so he stepped on the other side of the tree that had broken his fall. A few more steps, turning here and there to get as much of the ground covered as he could.

And then five perfectly manicured fingernails flashed in the light. Scott stopped, lifted the phone to reveal more of the ground…

A woman – or rather, half of a woman – lay face-first in the dirt mere feet from where Scott himself had thrown himself to the ground. "Holy cra—" he shouted, practically jumping backwards.

He hadn't noticed the hill behind him, and certainly hadn't accounted for how steep it was. Though he tried, the fallen leaves covering the ground kept him from catching his balance. With some kind of luck – probably the only luck he'd had all night – he managed not to hit his head on the way down, landing flat on his stomach at the bottom of the hill. "Can't I catch a break?" Scott groaned to no one in particular, pushing himself up onto his feet.

The question was met with a low growl. Scott turned to see the source – a pair of glowing eyes and some sort of massive, four-legged creature in the shadows. Was that a wolf?

There was no time to consider – the thing leapt into the air. Scott tried to scramble out of the way, back up the hill, but before he'd even gotten a matter of inches, he could feel the beast's teeth sink into his side and pull him back to the ground. He screamed. The pain was unbearable and his terror was even worse. And there was no one who knew he was here, no one who would be able to help him in time.

But then the beast was gone. Why it went, where it went… it was impossible to say. Scott slowly rose onto his feet. His side felt like a hundred knives had been stabbed into it – not actually that far from what had actually happened, he realized. He had to get out of these woods. Fast.

It actually did not take long for him to find the road, and not too far from where Stiles had parked. Once he'd passed the parking area for the Nature Reserve and seen that it was, in fact, empty, he resigned himself to the long walk home. First, though, he had to be sure he wasn't about to bleed to death. He lifted his torn hoodie and examined his side… the bite marks looked pretty deep, but in truth the wound didn't appear to be bleeding too much. It was hard to tell in the light of the moon.

When he finally did make it home, he slathered antibacterial ointment over the wound, put a large bandage over it, and promptly passed out in his bed.

* * *

"You're home late."

Buffy groaned. "I just went for a walk, dad."

"A lot on your mind?" her father asked, patting the coach next to him. The coach – usually long enough to fit three people – was mostly taken up by a pile of pillows and folded blankets. Anyone who walked in could immediately tell someone was sleeping there regularly – but the troubles in the Summers family went so much deeper than that. "Come talk to me."

"No," Buffy said shortly, "I'm going to bed."

"This isn't because of you," he called behind her as she ascended the steps. She wasn't sure if he was trying to convince her or himself.

Buffy noted the light seeping out from under the door of her parents' – well, her mother's – bedroom. With slight trepidation she stepped over to the door and tapped on it with her fingertips.

No answer.

"Good night, mom," she said into the crack of the door.

No answer.

Buffy walked down the hallway – really only a few steps in this cramped little "family-sized apartment" and went into her own bedroom. She flipped the switch and the light on the ceiling flickered alive.

Instantly she collapsed on her bed – not even bothering to change out of her clothes. In the past six months she'd lost… everything: her friends; her boyfriend; her school; her future; her next boyfriend, and now even her family was falling apart. How was any girl supposed to handle all of this?

* * *

Scott hastily locked his bike to the bike rack. He felt like his alarm had gone off mere minutes after he'd gone to sleep, but somehow he was still feeling well rested and surprisingly upbeat given the number of times he'd almost died the night before.

Maybe it was because he hadn't _actually _died. Even his side wasn't even hurting too badly. All in all that was pretty good.

A silver Porsche slid into the space next to his bike. The only thing that could possibly ruin his mood had arrived – Jackson Whittemore. He was the most popular asshole in the sophomore class – possibly in all of Sunnydale High. For whatever reason, Scott had quickly made his way to the top of Jackson's shit list.

"Watch the paint," Jackson sneered, throwing open the door of his convertible so roughly that it nearly hit the bike rack.

Scott sneered back, but by the time a comeback was even beginning to formulate in his mind, Jackson had headed towards the school doors. Scott sighed inwardly, and trudged up towards the school. He and his friends usually gathered in the quad before school began when the weather was nice. He was surprised to find the gang – with the exception of Willow –gathered by a stone bench near the entrance of the school instead.

"There you are!" Stiles exclaimed, leaping to his feet at the sight of Scott, "What happened to you?"

"A lot," Scott answered simply, "You go first."

Stiles looked as though he was going to protest, but launched into his story after only a minute's hesitation. "Dad dropped me off at home, but I went back as soon as he left. I hung out there until I saw flashlights headed in my direction, then I took off. Your turn."

"I got bit by an animal," Scott announced, "I think it was a wolf."

"It wasn't a wolf," Jesse interrupted, obviously holding in a laugh.

"It looked like a wolf," Scott insisted.

"There hasn't been a wolf in California in like, decades," Jesse replied, "It wasn't a wolf."

"Like sixty years," Stiles agreed.

"You just know that?" Xander wondered aloud, "I mean, without even thinking about it. You just know that."

Stiles shrugged, but Scott cut him off before he could say anything else. "Look, I know what I saw."

"It was not a wolf," Stiles shook his head, "It was dark out, could have been anything."

"Guess you won't believe me when I tell you I found half of the body either," Scott's smugness was virtually palpable.

All three of his friends reacted in almost the same, predictable way. "No way!" Xander exclaimed, voicing their excitement, "Which half?"

"The, uh, her top half," Scott answered. Visualizing the discovery sent a shiver down his spine.

"Who was she?" Jesse asked, "Did you recognize her?"

"No," Scott shook his head, "But I wasn't really paying too close attention. There was, you know, a—"

"Wolf," the other three finished in unison, all appearing sceptical.

The sound of stilettos striking the pavement brought a welcome change of subject. "Stiles, look! It's the love of your life, Lydia Martin!" Jesse teased.

Stiles spun on his heel – corpse and wolf utterly forgotten. Sure enough, with long flowing strawberry blonde locks bouncing around her shoulders, Lydia Martin strut confidently down the cement walkway towards the school entrance. Even as she went, several other girls fell in step behind her. Lydia wasn't quite "Queen B" of the popular sophomore girls, but whenever Cordelia Chase wasn't around the Cordettes – as they were called – flocked to Lydia.

"Have you seen Cordy's new hair?" a blonde girl, Harmony Kendall, was asking as Lydia approached, "So gorgeous."

"Still haven't seen it since you asked me yesterday," Lydia replied dully, "How about I just let you know when I've had the pleasure?"

"Hey Lydia," Stiles stammered as the girls drew near, "You look…like you're gonna ignore me."

Indeed, Lydia breezed past, and Stiles was swept to the side as the girls pushed their way to the door.

Stiles shot a scathing look at the others of his group – as though it was his association with them that prevented him from being on Lydia's rader.

"She's dating Jackson," Jesse pointed out, "You can't compete."

"I could if I weren't a nerd by association," Stiles frowned.

"Sorry, who knows how long it's been since a wolf's been in California of the top of his head?" Xander grinned.

Stiles' expression didn't change, even though he'd clearly lost the battle. "Whatever, let's go find Willow."

* * *

They found Willow, as they expected, in the Quad. "Did you see the new librarian?" she asked excitedly as soon as she saw them, "He brought in all these old books this morning! I have to spend some time in the library, I have to find out what they all are!"

"Of course you do, Will," Xander chuckled.

"Maybe you can do some animal research while you're there," Stiles suggested, "Scott thinks he got bit by a wolf last night."

Willow's enthusiasm was – partially – diminished by her sudden concern for Scott. "Does it hurt? Are you okay?"

"It's not so bad," Scott shook his head, "Not as bad as it looked last night. Still, scared the heck out of me."

"I bet!" Willow nodded her standard empathetic nod, "Well, get it looked at after school, okay? Animal bites can get nasty."

Scott was saved from offering any promises by the bell ringing for class. Willow didn't wait a moment to start rushing off to class – the first day back was her favorite for reasons none of the rest of them could quite understand.

* * *

Mr. Curtis' English class was renowned for being deathly boring. Not only was it dull, he was strict and seemed to have eyes in the back of his head. No one could get away with anything in his class – texting, passing notes, even doodling instead of taking notes was taking a serious chance.

"Kafka's _Metamorphosis_," Mr. Curtis droned, scribbling the title on the blackboard in an almost illegible handwriting, "Who's read it?" Predictably, no hands were raised. He didn't even turn to look before continuing. "Over the next two weeks we'll be examining the themes present in this classic work. The absurdity of life…"

A deafening ring hit Scott's ears. Someone's cell phone. He turned his gaze up – surely that would stop Mr. Curtis in his tracks, but the teacher didn't seem to be hear it. Glancing around the room revealed that no one else was reacting either. How could anyone not hear that noise?

"Mom, really, this is kind of excessive," a girl's voice spoke as the ringing came to a sudden stop. But there was no girl on the phone in the classroom. Scott kept looking around, trying to find a source for the noise.

"I forgot a pen, which was dumb, but I am sure I'll be fine," the girl's voice went on. And then Scott saw her – out the window. Sitting in the Quad. She was stunning – somehow beyond beautiful, with wavy dark hair and a smile that seemed to reflect the sun itself. Principal Flutie was walking towards her at a somewhat urgent pace.

Scott clapped his hands over his ears. As much as he didn't want to listen to Mr. Curtis – and he didn't – he also didn't want to eavesdrop on a conversation happening in the quad a million miles away. Unfortunately, that drew Mr. Curtis' attention – and ire. "Mr. McCall, do you have something to add?" he demanded, finally turning to face the class.

Scott could hear him through his hands. "Nope," he stammered, trying to feign innocence, "Just had a… buzzing. I'm fine." He glanced out the window again but saw that the girl and Principal Flutie had gone.

* * *

"I want to apologize for the wait, Miss Argent," Principal Flutie said cordially as he led Allison into the school building, "I know it doesn't make a great first impression on a new student, transferring in but… First day back from Chris—I mean, winter break, of course the students are all very "

Allison had fallen in step behind the Principal as soon as he'd introduced himself. She was not particularly pleased to be here – at yet another new school in yet another new town. Moving around so much was uncomfortable at best, but her parents seemed to love it. They made friends everywhere – Allison did not find things so easy.

Flutie was leading her to her first class himself, which was very nice of him but he seemed to trying just a little too hard to be friendly. "I am sure that you'll be able to get someone to help you find your next class," he went on, "We're a community here. Givers, helpers – that's what Sunnydale is all about. I'm sure you'll fit in great."

"How far is it to my class?" Allison asked – the words emerging from her mouth before she could stop them. Frantically she attempted to cover for herself. "You know, just because I don't want to miss too much."

"Already thinking of your academics!" Principal Flutie exclaimed proudly, "That's what it's all about here at Sunnydale. Learning. And giving and helping. But also learning. You'll be fine." He stopped next to a door and inhaled sharply through his nose. "You ready?" he asked, as though he was overcome with anticipation.

Allison raised her eyebrows and nodded. "Yeah. Definitely."

Principal Flutie pushed open the door and stepped inside. "Mr. Curtis! So sorry to interrupt but we have a new student today!"

Allison noted the look of total displeasure that washed across Mr. Curtis' face at the interruption. "Go ahead," he mumbled.

Principal Flutie did not seem to notice Mr. Curtis' silent objections. "This is Allison Argent, everyone!" he said exuberantly, "I want you all to make her feel at home. I know that you will. This is Sunnydale, show her all your sunny dispositions!"

"Have a seat, Miss Argent," Mr. Curtis did not even wait for the principal to turn to leave. Allison did not need a second bidding – she'd already scoped out the closest empty seat. It was behind a remarkably cute boy, so that was a bonus.

As soon as she slid into the seat, he handed her a pen. "Thought you might need this," he said with a smile.

Allison stared at the pen for a minute. "Yeah," she said hesitantly, "Thanks." Returning the smile, she took the pen. It was weird that he knew she needed one… but she wasn't going to turn down a potential new friend just because he guessed she was unprepared.

"No problem," he said, flashing his smile at her one more time.

Allison thought she might like it here.

* * *

Other than the boy in English, Allison spent the rest of the day with minimal interaction with anyone until she was at her locker before last period. It was at that point that a finger jabbed into her shoulder.

"Where did you get that jacket?" a girl's voice demanded.

Allison turned and found a strawberry blonde, extremely fashionably dressed girl standing before her, just a head shorter than Allison. "Uh, my mom worked as a buyer for this boutique in San Francisco," Allison explained, "It's a nice job cause she can do it while we move around."

"I knew you were new here," the girl replied, "Don't worry. With connections like that, you're my new best friend! Listen… most nights we all hang out at the Bronze, but this Friday I'm having a party at my house. Everyone will be there!"

Allison was not sure she was ready for an "everyone" kind of party yet – she hadn't even finished unpacking her room. She had no idea how long her family intended to stay in Sunnydale, for all she knew she'd be gone by Friday. "Friday night is family night."

"That's too bad," another voice chimed in. Lydia smiled, as the boy who arrived slid his arm around her waist. "Everyone who is anyone at this school will be going right after the scrimmage."

"Football?" Allison wondered, "Isn't it kind of late in the year?"

"Lacrosse," he corrected, "This school is all about lacrosse. It's our only winning team."

"Thanks to Jackson," Lydia cooed proudly, running her fingertips affectionately along his cheek. "If you can get out of family night, you should come."

Allison nodded – though her eyes had strayed from her conversation partners. The boy from English class was watching her.

"At least come watch practice right now," Lydia urged, grinning excitedly.

* * *

"So, she's been here like five minutes and she's hanging out with the Cordettes?" Willow sighed.

"Hot girls flock together," Jesse observed.

"No one warned her that they're evil before she got here," Xander added. The three of them looked expectantly towards Scott, but he seemed totally distracted.

"Scott?"

"Right," he said finally, snapping out of it. He couldn't explain how but he had definitely just listened to Allison's entire conversation even standing down the crowded hallway from her. "Hot girls. Yeah, that's it."

None of his friends noticed his distracted state. Willow even provided a convenient change of topic. "Xander, have you seen Amy today? She was acting really weird in Bio."

"To be honest, I'd be acting a little weird if I'd just spent two weeks stuck in a house with Amy's mom," Xander replied, "I'm sure she'll be back to her usual amount of weird soon."

* * *

Stiles gave Scott his best "sad puppy dog" face. "But if you play, I won't have anyone to talk to on the bench," he whined, "Besides. Your asthma?"

"I lost my inhaler last night," Scott shrugged, "And I've been fine all day."

"You also haven't played lacrosse all day," Stiles countered, sinking onto the metal bench.

The conversation had hardly finished when Coach Finstock approached. "McCall! Listen, we need to build up everyone's confidence so you're in the goal!"

"I'm what?" Scott choked, "But… Danny's the goalie!"

"Danny's good. Really good," the coach replied, "That's not what I'm looking for right now. I'm looking for pretty much useless."

"Thanks Coach," Scott groaned.

* * *

As usual, the bleachers were not even nearly empty. The lacrosse team – as the best team at school – had become such a matter of interest that even their practices were flocked to by the student body. Xander and Jesse, firmly committed to as un-athletic lifestyle as possible, were at least willing to watch their friends Stiles and Scott at practice – sitting at practice, typically. Sometimes Willow would join them in the bleachers, but today she was preoccupied with meeting the new librarian.

They were not particularly surprised to see Cordelia Chase lead a contingency of Cordettes up to the last row of the bleachers – nor were they surprised to see Lydia and the new girl arrive a few minutes later.

They were surprised to see Scott started walking towards the goal.

"Is he playing?" Jesse gasped, "They never put him on the field!"

"Who is that?" they heard the new girl ask.

Lydia shrugged. "McCall… uh, Sam, maybe? Or Scooter?"

Xander rolled his eyes. Who knew "Scott" was such a hard name to remember?

The coach blew his whistle – and Scott collapsed to the ground, hands clutching the sides of his helmet.

* * *

The sound of the whistle was so loud it seemed to echo inside his head. Scott dropped his lacrosse stick and dropped to the ground. Even as the sound faded, he found he was frozen in place.

One of the lacrosse players lined up to take a shot at the goal saw a golden opportunity – racing towards Scott and easily scoring. The team cheered. Scott groaned, pushing himself back up to standing and taking a hold of his lacrosse stick again. He was not going to allow that to happen again.

Isaac Lahey was charging towards him now – although he should have been picking up some speed he seemed to be slowing down. And when he threw the ball with his lacrosse stick it was like… like slow motion. Scott cocked his head to the side and watched the ball arc through the air towards him, and then easily caught it in the net of his own lacrosse stick.

Cheers erupted again – this time from Xander and Jesse on the bleachers and from Stiles on the bench. One catch wasn't too impressive for most of the onlookers, though. They clapped with a bored enthusiasm.

Next, though, Boyd charged towards Scott. Vernon Boyd IV was his full name, actually – Scott reflected that even at the slow motion speed he was charging at he seemed somehow too brutal for such a dignified name. Boyd hurled the ball from his stick like he meant to kill with it – and yet the ball still moved so slowly that Scott caught it with a casual motion from his own stick.

Now even the Cordettes were impressed. "His name is Scott!" he could hear Lydia announce to Allison over the applause, like she'd suddenly remembered.

Not everyone was happy about Scott's sudden success. Jackson pushed his way to the front of the line and started racing towards the goal without waiting for the coach's say so – no faster than the others had seemed to go but every single part of his body seemed to radiate rage. Once the ball had left Jackson's lacrosse stick, however, it too seemed to drift across what was left of the field into Scott's own net.

The bleachers erupted into an overwhelming level of cheering. Jackson, however, was anything but pleased. He stalked off the field, tossing his lacrosse stick to the ground.

Scott couldn't help but grin.

* * *

"Slow motion?" Stiles blinked, stopping in his tracks. Tracks was a relative term, of course. They were back in the Sunnydale Nature Preserve. Scott was insistent on finding his inhaler and Stiles… well, Stiles and Jesse wanted to find the body. They'd asked Xander if he wanted to come, but he had gone to find Willow in the library.

Scott nodded – though it was hard to tell between being behind him and the hood over his head. "Yeah," he went on, "And… like, I can smell things and hear things that I absolutely shouldn't be able to."

"Oh, like what?" This was all ridiculous. Usually Stiles was the one making things more dramatic – or Jesse. Scott was clearly trying to move in on their turf here.

"You have really old mint mojito gum in your pocket," Scott answered.

Stiles snorted, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. He hadn't bought mint mojito gum since like November. Now he was into that Trident Layers stuff. Two flavors at once was really soothing for his A.D.D. "The only gum I have is…" he announced, withdrawing his hands, clutching the pack. It was green. It was… "…what the hell, man?"

"It must be like… adrenaline filling my body as I go into shock," Scott said, "That can happen right?"

"You're the one who works with a vet, shouldn't you know?" Jesse chimed in.

Scott groaned. "We have to find my inhaler fast, I have to close the office tonight."

And so the three of them set off again, at a slightly more determined pace. "I think I know what's happening," Stiles announced in his most serious tone of voice, "But don't worry. It will only be a problem on a full moon. It's called lycanthropy."

He exchanged a knowing glance with Jesse. Scott, he realized, was too freaked out right now to find the humor in the joke.

"What is that?" Scott asked nervously, "Like, should I go to the hospital? Are there specialists?"

"Hospital can't help you," Stiles went on as Jesse rolled his eyes, "But you can feel better if you howl at the moon."

"You're an ass," Scott mumbled. Jesse, at least, chuckled a bit.

The trio walked further into the woods in complete silence until Scott finally stopped them. "This is the spot," he announced, "I'm sure of it."

"You know, from the way you described where the body was I kind of expected there to be a body here," Jesse snarked.

"Someone must have moved it," Scott shrugged, "Help me find my…" He trailed off, and as he did Stiles and Jesse turned their eyes to whatever had caught Scott's attention.

A man. In dark clothes, a leather jacket, with scruff across his chin. He looked very familiar. "You're trespassing," he said gruffly.

"Yeah," Scott nodded, "Sorry. We're looking for…"

The man pulled something out of his pocket and tossed it to Scott. "This?"

Scott caught it and held it up. His inhaler. "Yeah. This."

"Now you can go." And the man turned and stalked away through the trees.

Obediently, the three friends started back tracking through the woods. Suddenly, Stiles could put a name with the face. "Derek Hale!" he exclaimed.

"Who?" Scott asked.

"You guys have got to remember this," Stiles was appalled that this wasn't ringing bells with anyone else. "He was only a few years older than us. Their house burned down, killed like a whole bunch of people?"

"Try to remember you're the only one here whose dad is in law enforcement, would you?" Jesse groaned, "None of us actively follow this dead body stuff. We just like to support your dead-body-hunting hobbies."

"Whatever," Stiles retorted, "It was like a huge deal. Almost the whole family died? None of this is ringing a bell, seriously?"

Jesse and Scott just stared at him blankly.

"Yeah," Scott finally said, "I gotta get to work."

* * *

The front stoop wasn't what Buffy would have considered the safest place to hang out – actually, anywhere outside after about five pm was pushing it for her latest definitions of safety. The streets of Los Angeles were… unpredictable at the best of time.

But on the other hand, it sure beat being inside right at that moment. Her mother and father were having another of their "intense discussions" as they liked to call them. Dawn and Buffy had cleared out as soon as it had begun.

They were sitting pretty quietly until… "This is your fault, Buffy," Dawn said out of the blue.

"Excuse me?" Buffy snapped, "No, it isn't."

Dawn was not swayed so easily. "Yes, it is. They started fighting when you started getting in trouble."

Buffy sighed. "Look, Dawnie, there's a lot of things going on right now. Not just for me but for mom and dad. And they don't all have to do with me getting in trouble."

No. Some of them had to do with their father's illicit and not-so-well-hidden affair. But no one, least of all Buffy, wanted Dawn to know about that. Things were hard enough for her.

"Like what?"

"Like…" Buffy really couldn't think of a plausible lie. That was new.

"I'm going for a walk," Dawn announced, standing and stomping down the stairs before Buffy had a chance to disagree.

"It's after dark, Dawn, you really don't want—"

"You don't know what I want!" Dawn shouted back.

Buffy stood and headed after her sister. "You'll get in trouble!"

"We both will!"

"Fine!" Buffy finally gave in. "I'm coming with you though!"

* * *

The door latched with a satisfying "click"! The vet's office had been especially dull. Doctor Deaton had left a good two hours earlier, but Scott remained behind to answer phone calls. Of which there had been exactly none.

Mentally creating a prioritized to-do list, Scott marched dutifully into the bathroom and lifted up his shirt. The bandage over his bite was still stained with blood – at the very least it was time to change it. Gritting his teeth, he pulled the bandage off as quickly as he could.

The skin beneath it was utterly unblemished. It was as if there had never been a bite of any kind. Scott stared at it for a moment… but he had work to do. The cats needed to be tended to, the dogs needed to be tended to. Work didn't stop just because he was mysteriously not going to die – maybe.

It only took a few minutes to get a fresh bag of dry cat food out of storage and haul it into the room the cats that were staying overnight were kept in. As soon as he opened the door, however, an overwhelming racket greeted him – the cats began hissing and yowling as soon as they caught sight of him. They scratched violently at the doors at their cages.

"Maybe I'll come back?" Scott offered, slowly backing out of the room again. The cats just continued hissing at him.

He'd barely left the room when a frantic pounding on the door reached him. Scott shook his head – some customers didn't seem to understand that the world doesn't alter itself to fit their schedule. Nevertheless, he went to the door and pulled it open.

Allison Argent, thoroughly soaked, stood before him, visibly upset. "I know it's late," he said tearfully, "But I hit a dog. I was just changing the song on my iPod – I should have been watching but…"

"It's okay," Scott interrupted, "Where's the dog?"

Allison jabbed her thumb behind her to the SUV she had been driving. "In the back. It was all I could do to get her in there, she was growling at me."

"Probably just scared." Scott stepped out into the rain and followed Allison to her vehicle. Allison lifted open the back door, the dog inside growled. To both of their surprise, however, it stopped at the sight of Scott. He easily lifted the dog in his arms and carried it back inside, Allison tailing nervously behind him.

After she had shut the door, Scott led her into the examining room and spent a short while looking the dog over. "I'm pretty sure it's just a broken leg," he finally announced, "I can make a splint and we can keep her kennelled here until someone comes looking for her."

"Oh, thank God," Allison sighed in relief. She was shivering, Scott noticed as he looked up at her.

"I have some clothes in my bag if you want to borrow them." He motioned to the backpack tossed carelessly in the corner of the room.

She smiled, and the room itself seemed to light up. The dog whined, almost sympathetically, as Scott's heart rate felt like it tripled.

* * *

"I think we need to go home now, Dawn," Buffy said warningly, but her younger sister was not slowing down.

"No." Dawn was maybe the most stubborn one in the family – which was really saying something. "I don't want to go back there if mom and dad are going to keep fighting and nobody will tell me why."

"Fine," Buffy relented, "I will tell you when we get home. Now let's go. It's dark out."

"You never used to be scared of the dark," Dawn whined.

Buffy nodded grimly. "Well, I've learned some things about the dark, okay? And I know what I'm talking about. Let's go home."

* * *

Scott had tried not to watch Allison change through the window of the door she'd gone through – he really did. She'd kept her back turned, and even so all he could make out was a shoulder. Unfortunately, he was a teenager and he had little resistance to his hormones. Despite the distraction, he did manage to splint the leg.

He tried his best to play it cool once she had emerged into the examining room – but she decided to stand inches to his right to take a look at the dog. "Is she going to be okay?"

"Yeah," Scott nodded, "You can pet her if you want."

She reached out to touch the dog – drawing nearer to Scott as she did. She smiled again and there went Scott again.

"You, uh, you have an eyelash on your cheek," Scott stammered.

Allison tried to brush her cheek, but her fingers were caught up in the sleeve of Scott's shirt. It was noticeably too big for her, but somehow it still looked better on her than it did on him.

"Let me," Scott whispered, gently reaching out and brushing the offending lash away with his thumb. A charged silence fell between them. Scott wondered if she felt the tension too.

"I, uh, I have to, uhm, go," she finally managed.

Yeah. She felt it. "Let me walk you out," he offered. They both walked out of the examining room, through the waiting area, and into the drenched parking lot outside.

She pulled open the driver's door of the SUV, then turned and smiled at Scott. "Thanks."

"So, you have a family night on Friday?" Scott blurted out.

"No, that was a lie. How did you even…" Allison stared at Scott quizzically.

"Would you… do you want to go to Lydia's party with me?"

Allison smiled. "Sure."

The smile on Scott's face lasted well after he made it home – until he fell asleep in his bed.

* * *

The smile disappeared the instant he woke up – in the middle of the woods, wearing nothing but a pair of grey gym shorts. He scrambled to his feet as quickly as he could move in a groggy, half-awake state.

A growling sound behind him snapped him fully into consciousness. The woods were thick with morning mist but he could see something moving towards him. Red eyes glowed in the grey fog.

He couldn't tell what the creature was, but Scott was certain that was the thing that had bit him.

He turned and started running as quickly as he could away from the creature, not even watching where he was going. He didn't know how long or how far he'd run but finally a privacy fence rose into view. Scott took a running jump, leaping over the top of the fence and landing with a massive splash in the pool on the other side.

"Scott?" a voice asked, as he rose to the surface of the water.

Scott turned in the water and paled as his eyes fell upon the girl who stood staring at him from the backdoor of her home. "Oh," he stammered, "Good morning Cordelia."

* * *

The next two days were brutal. Cordelia made sure anyone who would listen heard about Scott appearing in her pool. When he explained himself to his friends, Stiles immediately became convinced something was wrong with Scott and became determined to find out. "Some sort of animal bite disease!" he had theorized.

But then, Scott had gone to lacrosse practice. Coach Finstock hadn't put him in the goal, but he had been very sure to make sure Scott played. And Scott was – inexplicably – great. It put a stop to the treatment he was getting from the Cordettes, and most of the team was excited. Stiles seemed concerned and Jackson…

Jackson cornered Scott in the locker room after practice. "Where are you getting your juice?" he demanded.

"My… what?" Scott stammered, noticing that Jackson's fist was pressed into the locker a little too close to his head.

"Where are you getting your juice?"

Scott crinkled his forehead in confusion. "M mom does all the grocery shopping?"

Jackson lifted his fist and slammed into the locker again – definitely too close to Scott's head. "I don't know what's going on with you, McCall, but no one gets this good at lacrosse overnight. I am going to find out what's up."

"Could you let me know when you do?" Scott snapped, suddenly fed up. "I can do things I've never been able to do before, I can hear things I shouldn't be able to hear, I can smell things nobody should be able to smell, and I woke up in the middle of the freaking woods! I've got literally no idea what's happening to me. So, please, find out. And tell me all about it." He shoved Jackson off of him and left the locker room as quickly as he could without breaking into a run.

Stiles was waiting outside. "I have got to tell you something."

"Really? Now?" Scott rolled his eyes. He couldn't help it, he just wanted to get home.

"They found wolf hair on the half of the body the cops found," Stiles reported, "So, you were right. We were wrong."

"How did you even find that out?"

"Well, the police scanner I stole and put in my Jeep, of course," Stiles's facial expression was appalled, as if Scott had just asked the most nonsensical question imaginable.

"Nice job today," Allison's voice cut in, as she appeared behind Stiles, "Lydia says she's never seen you play that well before."

"Eh, I had a good day," Scott answered blushing. Stiles rolled his eyes and departed without saying anything.

"We're still on for Friday?" Allison asked, smiling broadly.

Scott's heart skipped a beat before heading into a very excited overdrive. "If you still want to go after, y'know…"

"I don't care about rumors, Scott," Allison shrugged, "I definitely want to go."

* * *

Stiles pushed open the doors to the library. He wasn't surprised to see Willow there, but the fact that Jesse was casually lounging on a table – with a book in hand – was a little shocking. Xander was there as well, sitting at a computer clicking furiously at whatever game he'd found on the Internet.

"Stiles!" Willow exclaimed, looking up from her own book, "I'm glad you finally came to check it out. Mr. Giles brought so many amazing new books!"

"I'm thrilled, really," Stiles nodded fervently despite his sarcasm, "But I'm actually looking for something in particular."

"And what would that be?" a heavily accented voice asked. This new librarian was clearly straight off the boat from England.

Stiles scratched his ear, a little nervous. "Something weird is happening to my friend. I'm thinking there's got to be some kind of rare disease or something. I just want to look up his symptoms, see if I can find anything."

"What symptoms would those be? Perhaps I can help."

Stiles turned to look at this… Mr. Giles. He was clad in tweed, with glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He even looked like a stuffy British guy. Still, medicine was not Stiles' area of expertise. He was going to need some help. "Uhm, he got bit by an animal last weekend and since then he's been…. Weird."

"How descriptive," Mr. Giles commented dryly, "Could you give me a tad bit more to work with?"

Stiles nodded and went on, "Well, he's asthmatic but he hasn't used his inhaler all week, even though he's suddenly kicking ass at lacrosse. And he can smell things like gum in my pocket that nobody should be able to smell."

"And he's been really sensitive to sound!" Jesse added, "Like everything is too loud."

Mr. Giles had adopted a very serious expression. For a full minute he didn't say anything – considering something. Then, he turned and strode into his office. When he finally emerged again, he had a very old book in his hand, which he thrust towards Stiles. "Read this with an open mind," he instructed carefully, "And bring it back in one piece."

Stiles stared down at the tome. _Encyclopaedia Lycanthropy_ the cover read, in ornate writing.

* * *

As though things had not changed enough in the Summers' household recently, that week saw even more changes. Buffy, feeling her hand had been forced, told Dawn all that she knew about the problems between their parents – doing her best to minimize the more unpleasant details like her father's divorce. It was fortunate that his allowed the two of them to lean on each other – particularly since their parents stopped fighting an entered a period of cold silence towards each other.

Their father had, apparently, determined he would be keeping the house and their mother would be moving out. As a result, he took to sleeping in the bedroom and she took to sleeping on the couch. Dawn had let him know – loudly – exactly how awful she thought that was.

Buffy, for her own part, stopped her nightly strolls altogether. She knew, if things were going to improve for her, she had to let go of that part of her life completely. She also knew that it was going to be impossible to keep Dawn from following her, and she had to keep her sister out of harm's way as much as possible.

It was because of this that she found herself staring at static on the television screen, sitting on the couch next to her mother Thursday night. After what felt like ages of silence, her mom spoke. "We found a school."

"What?" Buffy asked.

"We found a school that is willing to take you," she repeated, "It's a public school but it's only about an hour away so you would still be able to see your father."

"If I want to," Buffy snipped.

Her mother sighed. "I get that you're angry, Buffy. But he is your father and he didn't do anything to hurt you."

Buffy sighed. "Whatever. Where's this school?"

"Sunnydale."

Well, that sounded nice enough.

* * *

The previous two days had been much better than the start of the week. Scott's superb performance at Wednesday's practice had managed to make everyone forget about his appearance in Cordelia's swimming pool – well, everyone except for Cordelia and a few of her chief cohorts. Cordelia was now under the belief that Scott was in love with her and was stalking her – Scott was kind enough not to point out that the only person in his group who had any warm feelings towards her was Jesse. Partly because he wasn't sure Cordelia even knew who Jesse was. The only other person who seemed to still have it out for him was Jackson.

Scott's legendary improvements during practice had drawn an even bigger crowd than usual to the scrimmage. The bleachers were nearly as full as they would be for an actual game.

"Okay, losers!" Coach Finstock shouted to the team as they gathered around him, "This scrimmage is going to determine who is first line. So get out there and kick each other's butts!"

The team, already separated into their two teams for the scrimmage, needed no second bidding. Only a few seconds in, Scott had the ball in his net and was weaving between players. The people in the bleachers were already cheering for him.

Until he was suddenly knocked to the ground. He already knew it was Jackson before he even stood and looked. He was furious, and by the looks of it so was Jackson.

Coach Finstock blew his whistle for play to resume, and Scott scooped the ball into his net before Jackson had a chance to move at all. He charged towards the goal, Jackson racing behind him. Boyd and Greenberg were, similarly, racing towards him – hoping to stop him from reaching the goal. Scott swerved, to find that Isaac was flanking him. He growled – more to himself than anyone – and jumped. His teammates stopped and stared. The people in the bleachers stopped and stared.

Scott didn't stop. He sailed through the air, flipping forwards over Boyd's head and landing gracefully on his feet behind him – close enough to the goal to toss the ball at the net. Danny didn't even try to stop the ball – he just stared.

And then, quite suddenly, the deafening, stunned silence erupted into cheers from the bleachers. "Definitely on the first line!" Coach Finstock shouted.

Scott glanced over at his teammates on the bench. Stiles was not cheering – he was chewing his bottom lip. He turned to look at the bleachers – neither Jesse or Xander were cheering either. Willow, who had turned out to see the legend her friend was becoming, was ecstatic.

At least he had one good friend in the bunch.

* * *

Stiles' bedroom was trashed. He had printouts of various web pages he'd been looking at. The tome he'd received from the library was sitting next to his laptop on his desk. The laptop itself had open a page about the arcane dangers of wolfsbane.

He jumped a bit when Scott pushed open the door to his room and demanded. "What has gotten into you?"

"Lots of Adderall," Stiles admitted with a shrug, "Listen. You need to cancel your date tonight."

"No, but seriously, what has gotten into you?" Scott snapped, "First you're miserable that I made first line, now you want me to cancel my date?"

"I'm not miserable, I'm worried!" Stiles argued, "Look at all of this. The librarian gave me this book when I told him everything going on with you… it all fits!"

"What fits?"

"You're a werewolf, Scott," Stiles went on, barely pausing for Scott's question, "I'm not kidding this time. And tonight is a full moon. Which is probably why you're so grouchy."

"This is ridiculous," Scott scowled.

Stiles pressed further, "Look, the full moon, and high emotions, and anything that raises your heart rate. Those can all trigger the transformation and an unstoppable bloodlust. Scott, if you go on this date, you're going to kill her."

"I could kill somebody right about now," Scott glared at Stiles. If looks could kill, it wouldn't have been an idle threat at all.

"If you won't do it, I will," Stiles insisted, thrusting his hand forward to grab Scott's cell phone out of the pocket on the side of his backpack.

Scott moved faster than Stiles ever could. He had Stiles slammed up against a wall, snarling, his fist inches from Stiles' face. "I am going on this date," he snarled. As though realizing the position he'd put his best friend in, he spun around and slapped the desk chair. It flew into the air and landed on the floor next to the bed.

His decision made, Scott made it clear the conversation was over by storming out of the room.

Stiles sighed and stepped over to his fallen desk chair. As he lifted it back upright, he caught sight of the damage Scott had done to it. Three massive claw marks torn across the back of the chair.

"Okay, calling for backup now," Stiles muttered to himself.

* * *

Buffy shot upright in her bed the moment she heard the front door slam shut – the trashy romance novel she'd been reading forgotten at her side. "Mom?" she called out.

There was no immediate answer, so Buffy raced to her window and peered out the glass. It was exactly what she'd been afraid – Dawn was taking off at a run down the street, her mother following after her.

Buffy grabbed her purse and flew down the stairs and out the front door. "Mom, stop," she shouted, catching up easily, "Let me go after her. I'll talk to her. You go inside."

"I just told her about Sunnydale," her mother explained, "She didn't take the idea of moving out of town very well."

"I got this," Buffy repeated urgently, "Just go back inside."

It was amazing that her mother didn't argue. And Buffy took off at a run to catch up to Dawn before she could get too much farther. She'd almost reached her when she caught sight of a man, moving much faster than any ordinary man should be able to move, also heading towards Dawn from across the street.

"Dawn!" Buffy shouted, "Look out!"

The warning came too late, the man – the vampire – tackled Dawn and dragged her into an alley just behind her. Dawn screamed.

Buffy knew, consciously, that she was moving faster than anyone she'd ever met could possibly be moving at that moment. Still, time seemed to have stopped. Each step seemed to take a life time. Even her heart seemed to have halted completely.

As she finally rounded the corner, her eyes fell upon the creature holding Dawn captive. Her hand reached into her handbag, grasping the wooden spike that was tucked inside of it.

His face had taken on the monstrous visage of a vampire about to feed. Buffy had seen the face far too frequently in the past year – fangs emerging from his upper teeth, lumps arising above his eyes. His face was smoother than some of the vampires she'd faced. "You must be new," Buffy observed, speaking a lot more calmly than she felt.

The vampire hesitated, glaring at Buffy, and then tossing Dawn aside. She shrieked, and pressed herself up against the wall of the alleyway. Her face was streaked with tears.

Buffy, however, had no time to react to Dawn. The vampire lunged for her, she spun out of the way. He pulled back to try again and Buffy took the opening he provided, slamming the wooden stake into his chest. He stayed still for a moment before exploding in a shower of ash and dust.

The danger avoided, Buffy rushed to Dawn's side, gathering her little sister into a huge hug. "And that, Dawn, is why I'm not so crazy about the dark."

Dawn sniffled, trying to stop the flow of tears from her eyes. "I kinda get that now."

* * *

Scott emerged from the bathroom into his bedroom to find his mom awaiting him on his bed. It was a good thing he'd wrapped a towel around his waist, that was for sure.

"Party or date?" she asked. She could read him like a book.

Scott blushed. "Kind of both?"

"What's her name?"

"Allison…" Scott managed, "She's new."

His mom nodded, smiling proudly. "Your first date! You can have the car—"

"Thank you!"

"And I know I don't need to sit you down to talk about—"

Scott shook his head and quickly interrupted. "No, I don't need a sex talk."

"To talk about taking car of the car," she finished. She shook her head and hesitantly dropped the car keys on the bed as she stood and headed for the bedroom door. "Que te diviertas," she added, "But not too much, comprendes?"

"Sí mamá," Scott replied, groaning inwardly, "I got it."

* * *

Stiles and Jesse arrived at the party ready for action. The fact Jesse hadn't been invited barely caught anyone's attention, so many people from the school were there. Stiles, at least, had been invited by virtue of being on the lacrosse team. That didn't mean most of the party-goers were happy to see them.

"It's nice to get away from the Bronze sometimes," Cordelia was saying to Harmony, "Even if some of the same creepers showed up here."

Their reception by the Cordettes was hardly their chief concern, fortunately. "Have you thought at all about what we do when Scott gets here?" Jesse wondered aloud, clearing trying to ignore what Cordelia had just said.

Stiles shook his head. "Not really. I wish Xander had come."

"Well, he found the whole thing pretty hard to believe," Jesse pointed out, "Not really surprising. I'm not convinced myself."

"I showed you both the claw marks on my chair!" Stiles protested.

Jesse shrugged. "I mean, there's so many things that could have done that…"

"So many things," Stiles quipped, "There's such an array of human-sized things with claws in the world."

Jesse shoved an elbow into Stiles' rib cage. "Look who's here."

Scott was holding the front door of Lydia's house open for Allison to enter. Judging by his clothes, he'd obviously been trying to impress her. He never wore anything quite so form-fitting when he was hanging out with Stiles.

Allison, likewise, had clearly put some thought and effort into her outfit – though for Scott's benefit or everyone else's was questionable. The blue blazer she wore over a white blouse was probably among the most fashionable outfits in the whole place – and that included Lydia.

"Scott, hey!" Stiles exclaimed, waving as jovially as he could manage.

Scott ignored him – clearly he had not forgiven or forgotten their last conversation.

"Good talk," Stiles nodded, watching as Scott and Allison made their way out towards Lydia's pool, "I think this is all on you, Jesse."

* * *

Scott could not believe his luck. Allison had never looked more beautiful, and she had clasped onto his hand as soon as they'd entered the party. Scott was pretty sure that was a girl's way of claiming her territory. He didn't mind, at all.

Even Stiles' presence wasn't enough to ruin his mood. He hadn't cancelled his date, and Stiles could think whatever he wanted about that. They'd been polite enough to greet Lydia – who was polite enough to stop making out with Jackson long enough to shake Scott's hand and give Allison a big hug. And Jackson, meanwhile, was polite enough not to say anything to Scott at all.

The light of the moon was bright enough that it was practically daylight on the patio area that surrounded Lydia's pool. Allison pulled Scott to her before they could even consider heading back inside and the next thing Scott knew they were dancing, bodies pressed together.

They'd barely been dancing two minutes when he began to feel sharp pains wash over his body.

"Are you okay, Scott?" Allison asked, "You look a little…"

He didn't wait for her to finish before taking off through the doors to the inside of the house. He could hear Allison following him, he could hear the concern in Stiles' and Jesse's voices… it didn't matter what they said. He had to get out of there. He felt like his head was going to implode, and he really didn't want that to happen in front of people.

He pushed through the crowd, out the front door and hurried blindly towards his mother's car. An arm clad in a leather jacket reached out to stop him, but Scott shoved past it and, fumbling with the keys, got into the car and sped away.

* * *

Stiles' jaw dropped at the sight of Derek, even though Scott didn't seem to recognize him. Again. "Beyond creepy," he murmured.

Allison – who'd been tailing Scott much more closely than Stiles or Jesse – rounded on them as soon as Scott's car peeled away. "What the hell is going on with Scott?" she demanded.

"He's sick!" Jesse stammered.

"Migraines!" Stiles agreed, "I know it's hard to believe, Allison, but sometimes his migraines just pop out of nowhere."

Jesse nodded. "Yeah, it's awful. They start up and he just… poof. Gone."

"Allison?" another voice cut in. Derek was standing immediately behind her. "I'm a friend of… Scott's, and he said that you should feel free to get a ride with me. Whenever you want to go."

"Yeah, I'm all partied out I think," Allison said glumly, "Let's go then."

"Wait, Allison, I can give you a ride," Stiles jumped in, "Seriously. I'm a much safer driver."

"Less creepy too," Jesse muttered.

Allison either ignored Jesse or didn't hear him. "No, Stiles, you're on the team. It's your party. Stay and have fun."

"No, it's fine, everyone here hates me."

"Stay, Stiles, have fun. I'm going." Allison's tone of voice clearly indicated that the debate was over. If her tone hadn't been enough, the fact that she turned on her heel and walked away definitely was.

"Why is Derek Hale giving Scott's date a ride home right now?" Stiles wondered aloud.

"If Scott's a werewolf… what if Derek's a werewolf too?" Jesse theorized, "I mean, _someone_ had to bite Scott."

* * *

Scott leaned against the bathroom sink. Light from the full moon was pouring in the window, and the agony was not subsiding. His fingers had grown longer, his nails transforming into claws. He couldn't stop staring at them, even though he could feel hair growing on the sides of his face. He could feel fangs extending from his upper and lower canines.

When he finally tore his eyes away from his hands to look into the mirror he saw a golden glow from around his pupils.

He hardly had time to examine it before his bedroom door was hurled open. Stiles and Jesse barged in. "Scott!" Stiles exclaimed.

"What's with your face?" Jesse gasped.

"I guess this is what a werewolf looks like," Scott growled.

"Apology accepted." Stiles cut in.

Scott ignored him. "Allison?"

"She… she got a ride from Derek Hale." Stiles swallowed nervously after this pronouncement.

"We think he may be the one that bit you," Jesse added, "Like, why else would he be there?"

Scott didn't say anything else. He ran across the room to the open window above his bed and leapt from it. The sounds of a splash below followed by running feet told them Scott had landed safely.

"What do we do?" Jesse asked, "I mean, I don't want to fight a werewolf."

* * *

Sunnydale Nature Preserve was where he'd been when he'd first met Derek. Scott wasn't thinking too clearly, he was mostly focused on saving Allison from the monster's clutches, but it seemed to make sense that this was the place to look. Since he'd leapt from his window, he'd seemed to transform even further – his vision was red, and he could see… well, _everything_. And now that he'd reached the Preserve, he could even smell Allison.

He followed the scent with an urgency and speed he didn't know he had in him. He was learning an awful lot about himself this week. The trail ended beside a tree with no sign of Allison – snarling, he looked around until his eye fell upon her blazer draped over a branch. "Where is she?" he growled.

"Safe," a voice informed him sharply, "From you." Derek emerged from behind another tree. Scott charged, but Derek easily sidestepped him and grabbed his arm, turning and throwing Scott into another tree. "I don't want to fight you."

"You're going to," Scott turned to charge again, "Tell me where she is!"

"She's safe," Derek said, catching Scott by the shoulders. His face began to transform, lumps rising above his eyes and fangs growing out of his mouth.

And then they heard a crunch of footsteps.

"Run," Derek hissed, launching himself into a hasty retreat.

Scott was stunned. "Why?"

An explosion of light seemed to appear from the ground in front of him. What had caused it, he had no idea. He stumbled back, slamming bodily against the tree Derek had just thrown him into.

He heard a twang, and a whistling sound – but with his vision still blurred by the flash of light, he had no idea what was speeding towards him until the arrow impaled his arm and pinned him to the tree.

* * *

Dawn sat silently at the foot of Buffy's bed. Buffy didn't usually let her sister into her room but, at this point, it wasn't like there were any secrets left between them. And she really didn't want Dawn to be alone at this exact moment.

"So it's all true?" Dawn finally asked, "Everything you were saying before…"

Buffy nodded glumly. "Yeah. But I'm done with all of this when we get to Sunnydale. I'm just going to be a normal girl."

"How do you know?"

"I can't imagine there's many monsters in a place called Sunnydale, can you?"

* * *

Scott's vision was just returning in time to see Derek snap the arrow in half and pull Scott away from the tree. "I said to run," he snapped, "Now let's go."

Scott did not need to be told a third time. He raced after Derek, barely managing to keep up. "Who are they?" he asked, glancing behind them. A trio of men followed them, each armed to the teeth with guns, crossbows in hand, and various other weapons adorning them. The obvious leader of the group was smiling, obviously enjoying the thrill of the hunt.

"Werewolf hunters," Derek replied, veering to the left. Scott followed. "A particular group who have centuries of experience."

"Hunters?" Scott exclaimed, "You bit me, turned me into this, and put a target on my back!"

"I…" Derek came to a stop. "You don't understand what a gift these abilities are, do you? You play any sports?"

"Is this really a time for getting to know each other as pals?" Scott snapped, "Three men back there are trying to kill us, remember?"

Derek nodded. "You're right. Best if we split up. But, Scott? Remember that we're in this together now."

"And Allison?"

"I dropped her off at her home," Derek replied with a shrug, "She left her jacket in my car. Go home, Scott. Come find me when you want to control your abilities, not blame me for them." With nothing else to say, Derek disappeared into the woods.

Scott scowled, but took off at a run in the direction of the road. Miraculously, he managed to make it home without encountering the hunters again.

* * *

Although Scott called Allison the next day, the weekend passed without any word from her. Even Monday she seemed to be avoiding him.

"She just needs time to cool down," Willow assured him at lunch, "She'll be fine."

"No," Jesse shook his head, "You need to go talk to her. Prove you're still invested! I mean, she can't be that mad after we told her about your 'migraines'."

"What did happen exactly?" Xander put in, "You just bailed?"

"I'm positive you wouldn't believe us if we told you," Stiles shook his head. Scott was glad of it, he really didn't want the werewolf thing to become public knowledge.

* * *

Scott had mulled over the advice of his friends, until he finally decided what to do. After last period ended, he waited outside the doors of school. Even if he was late for lacrosse practice, it didn't matter. He was going to talk to Allison. The second she emerged from the school building, Scott fell into step beside her.

"I'm really sorry about the party," he told her.

She sighed. "Feeling better?"

"Yeah, loads better. These migraines just…"

"Your friends told me," Allison cut in.

"Do you think you can give me a second chance?"

"Well, it's not like you can control migraines I guess," Allison said, a smirk keeping across her face, "I guess we can give it another shot. But my dad's here, I have to run."

Scott beamed at her. "Okay. Just call me, y'know, whenver." She headed for the row of cars parked on the street, and he turned to head towards lacrosse practice.

But then he caught a familiar scent. He turned back… Allison was hugging a man with a very familiar smile.

Her dad was a werewolf hunter.

**...to be continued...**


End file.
